


Two Left Feet

by warmommy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Don Malarkey's beautiful eyelashes, F/M, Fluffy, Happy Ending, USO dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmommy/pseuds/warmommy
Summary: It's party time, and Malarkey's standing around looking like a goober.Based on the Tumblr request: Right to the good parts list "We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other" with Malarkey PLEASE





	Two Left Feet

The USO was throwing a shindig, free booze and free chow that  _wasn’t_  chow, and everybody was fucking wasted. 

Everyone was finding out what a good dancer Liebgott was because the kid had found a bottle of Grappa and apparently lived for regrets. Nixon seemed like he’d been taught how to foxtrot, and Buck seemed like he’d learned just from holding a pretty girl on a dance-floor so many times. 

Don Malarkey had not consumed a dangerous amount of Grappa, nor had he ever been taught to dance, nor had he ever forged the knowledge through thousands (or even tens) of dances with pretty women. That was why he was standing off on his own, sipping a beer and watching Penkala twirl Muck, who had a rose between his teeth. The night was just getting more and more bizarre, and someone was going to wind up crying, and someone else was going to wind up bleeding, he just knew it.

It was also amazing, though. The beer wasn’t half-bad and all his buddies were alive and well, hamming it up, enjoying themselves. He smiled at every single one of them he saw. Everybody deserved this so fucking much. Just one night where it was okay to be a real, live person again.

You saw him standing around looking goofy and lonesome and decided it was time those stubby little Irish legs got to stretching. “Malark!” You waved him over. “Let’s cut a rug.”

He laughed a bit and looked down at the glass in your hand. “Are you as shit-housed as everybody else?”

“Nope!  _This_  is a cherry Coke,” you said, finishing the sweet drink and putting the glass down on the bar. You winked at him and took his hands. “What, are you yella?”

“Am I yellow?” He laughed again, more lightly this time, and didn’t even realise he was being led out among other dancing uniforms. “What kind of movie is this?”

“I dunno, let’s figure that one out.” You winked at him. He really needed to unwind, if anybody, or unwind  _more_. It took a few songs, but he was finally getting into the literal swing of things right before the tempo changed entirely. 

“I think Perconte just puked in the corner over there,” Don said, beginning to move you both again, just barely. He was uncertain, you could tell, if this is what he should be doing, if he was being foolish. The light was doing its own sort of light in those soft brown eyes.

“Then Martin owes me two bucks.” You noticed how empty the floor was getting.

“What, there was a bet?” He smiled again, and again gave the slightest suggestion of movement, closer now. “Supposed to let me in on shit like that.”

You managed to put your head on his chest  _just_  before blushing. “Yeah, well…” You put his arm around you, took his other hand, and showed him how to sway along to a slow song. “Five bucks says Wild Bill is next.”


End file.
